These Arms of Mine
by FloridaMagpie
Summary: Six months or so post-graduation, Hisao is supporting Rin while they wait for her art career to take off. Hisao x Rin. Rated M for mature content.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: In doing research for this story I was stunned to find out just how capable people without arms can be with respect to taking care of themselves without any help whatsoever (this actually forced a major rewrite of the piece). In this respect, I actually think the game overstates the extent of Rin's physical handicap, so I tried to focus more on her behavior and worldview and the challenges it poses to her and Hisao's relationship.

Also, although there will certainly be adult content in this piece, this is not intended to be smut. Think like the game: adult content will be present in so far as it supports the relationship of the characters, but not for its own sake. I'm writing for grownups, so I assume a commensurate level of maturity and tolerance of that type of material.

Also, given that this deals with a character with physical (and probably also cognitive) impairments, there will be material that some readers find uncomfortable. That's the nature of the original game, so I won't apologize for that. However, any misunderstandings or misinterpretations of the implications of such conditions are my own. I'm not an expert in this field.

Although I figure it usually goes without saying in these stories, all characters and the KS universe as a whole are the property of their respective owners (not me).

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><p>******************Wednesday, November 14th*********************<p>

It isn't that unusual to wake up to find Rin watching me, so I don't react too badly when I open my eyes to find myself looking into her murky green ones from maybe six inches away. Even so, I jerk back a bit on instinct and bang my head against the headboard. The muffled thump seems to surprise her, and she jumps back too. Unfortunately, she's on the edge of the bed, and so she teeters for a moment, catches a heel, and then falls backwards, dropping out of sight with a muffled thud, one foot still clearly visible, hung up on the edge of the mattress and tangled in the sheets. She lets out a yelp, and then her voice floats back to me.

"Ouch."

I scramble over to the edge of the bed and lean over. She's flat on her back, arm nubs waving, her face scrunched up in pain. I'm cold with fear that she's hurt herself and the adrenaline shock makes my heartbeat stutter painfully for a moment. After a second, though, her eyes open up again, and she stares up at me, green eyes narrowed in irritation and her red hair spread out in disarray all around her head like a fiery halo.

"Are you alright?" I ask.

She thinks about it, eyes going dreamy-thoughtful. "I get hurt less when you're asleep. Maybe I should get you some sleeping pills."

She's okay. Rin's never been the most focused, but I have to believe that if she was really hurt she wouldn't be doing her usual random-association thing. It's hard to explain, but I've decided that Rin doesn't really think all that differently from anyone else - she's just never figured out which parts of her thoughts to follow up and which to ignore. She was born without arms, but sometimes I think that the effects of that pale in comparison to the odd internal world she lives in most of the time. It makes it hard to follow her conversations sometimes. I don't know if I'll ever really get the knack of it. Then she smiles up at me to let me know it's a joke, and I remember why I don't really care if I ever do.

"Maybe you shouldn't stare at me while I'm sleeping like that. What were you doing?"

"I like watching different yous," she says. "Asleep you is hard to see because usually when you're asleep I'm asleep." She shrugs. "I gotta take my opportunities when I find them."

If she's lucid enough to come up with this level of Rin-ness, she must be okay. I clamber down from the decrepit secondhand bed to help her up. Rin isn't _unable_to right herself after a fall, it's just more difficult. Honestly I think sometimes I'm more bothered than she is by watching her flail around like a turtle on its back, feet kicking and arm-nubs waving until she gets up the momentum to rock herself over onto her knees so she can stand up. Sometimes she does this crazy kung-fu movie looking thing, kicking her legs in a circle and rolling across her shoulders to her feet, but not this morning. Either the fall must have had an effect on her, or it's just too early for gymnastics. I think for a second that that's too bad. Gymnastics with Rin are...

...well, a thought best left for later, unless I want to be late for work.

I get an arm under her and lever her back up to her feet, pausing to let her disentangle her foot from the bed linens. Her eyes are squinted a little bit, so I reach up a hand to the back of her head and ask "Where's it hurt?"

She pauses, thinks about it. "Up a bit," she says. I dutifully move my fingers up half an inch.

"Over to the right," she says. I move them right, rub gently to let her know where they are.

"Yup," she says. "Right there, I think."

Applying a bit more pressure, I rub my fingers gently but firmly through her thick hair, massaging the sore spot. My anxiety returns for a second as I feel an irregular lump stuck to a curly red lock, then I relax as I realize it's only dried paint. It's not the first time that's happened. I don't know if that happens to all painters, or just Rin. Of course, most painters have hands to paint with. Rin has to use her feet, or sometimes her mouth. The results can be... messy.

I look over at the clock. It's 7:21. My alarm was set to go off in nine minutes, and it's not like I'd be able to get back to sleep after a wake-up like that anyway.

Suddenly, I smell something breakfasty. Now I'm really concerned.

"Rin," I ask, "are you cooking?"

She's gazing up at the skylight of the studio apartment, and I have to ask again before she looks back at me and nods, decisively.

"Eggs," she says, and smiles faintly. "Eggshells too, probably."

Rin's actually not bad in the kitchen. Of course, since she has to do almost everything with her toes she sometimes has to stand on a chair in front of the range so she can get her feet high enough, perched precariously on one leg as she leans over a pot of boiling water or a hot frying pan, the sight of which doesn't do anything good for my heart. She can hold a spoon or a spatula between her toes with surprising dexterity, just as she can handle a fork or a paintbrush. Cutting is difficult and dangerous, of course, and so she usually avoids it, but mixing is pretty straightforward for her, and she's good at handling the knobs and buttons of the electric stove. Eggs, unfortunately, tend to pose a unique challenge for her. I'm not sure if that's why she winds up cooking them so often, or if she just likes the taste of them. Either way, the results of her usual technique of sliding her bottom up onto the counter, gripping the eggs between the first and second toes of one foot, and cracking them into the pan seems to produce a lot of loose eggshells and broken yolks. Still cooking eggs makes her happy, and I've found that things that make her happy tend to make me happy, so I don't mind the occasional unexpected crunch.

No, the problem with Rin's cooking is how distractable she is. More than once I've come home from work to discover the black, smouldering remains of dinner scorched into a frying pan with Rin painting furiously a few meters away; or find her standing motionless staring at a butterfly that made its way into the apartment while a pot boils over onto the stove. I'm amazed we've never had a serious fire. Someday soon when I get enough saved up, I'm going to buy one of those smoke alarms that automatically calls the fire department. I predict that when I do, I'll wind up meeting quite a few irritated firemen, but that's better than her burning the house down.

At the moment, though, my paltry salary as a bank teller isn't really enough to do more than cover the rent and groceries each month. Not to mention the cost of paint and canvas. I'd like to think that it's all an investment until Rin's art gains a broader following beyond the small number of collectors and enthusiasts who have taken an interest in her work, but in all honestly I don't know if her paintings are ever likely to have the kind of broad appeal or investment potential to do more than provide us with the occasional windfall when Sae manages to sell one of her works down at her gallery, "22nd Corner," where she usually keeps a few of Rin's works on display.

More importantly, I've come to realize Rin's paintings are one of the few forms of self-expression that really works for her, even if I've never really managed to understand any of them. I'm not really an artist, or even a knowledgeable art-lover, but Rin's painting seems to keep her anchored in the same reality as me, more or less, and that's enough for me. My parents are somewhat less thrilled with the situation, of course. My heart medications are expensive, and even though my employer's health insurance covers them, there's always the risk my health will take a turn for the worse and I'll lose my job and have to go back on National Health Insurance, which isn't as good.

Plus, they'd like to see me enroll in university, and "reach my full potential." I can't really argue with them on the subject - certainly my grades and exams were good enough to get me accepted to a decent school, and my parents already had enough money saved up to send me. But somehow that doesn't matter as much to me as making sure Rin is okay. Maybe that will change someday. But until then, I feel lucky to have this job at the bank. As I mentioned, the pay isn't great, but the hours are good enough that most days I can leave in the morning while it's light out and still get home in time to make dinner so Rin doesn't set the apartment on fire.

While I've been thinking, Rin has been watching me, and I realize that she's wearing the downcast, vacant expression I've come to associate with regret and guilt. Even Rin's facial expressions are unique to her, and I'm still not sure I've worked them all out yet. Right now, though, I've got an idea what's wrong.

Despite her difficulties in carrying on normal social interactions, Rin is a remarkably astute observer, and I know it bothers her that I'm spending so much time taking care of her when I could be off at university studying to be a science teacher. She also seems to occasionally display an uncanny ability to read my thoughts on certain topics. I'm worried that she's noticed that I'm feeling the stress of my responsibilities.

I've tried to explain to her that I'm where I want to be, and that I'm happy with my choices, but I don't think she believes me. In truth, sometimes I'm not sure I believe it either. But I have to say that I honestly feel that this is where I'm supposed to be, and even after six months living with Rin in this crummy attic apartment I still find myself irresistibly attached to her, to our life together.

It isn't your typical life, but it's ours, and spending time with Rin has opened my mind to an amazing new perspective on the world. To watch her stare at a dandelion for an hour is to suddenly realize just how amazing an ordinary everyday object like a flower really is. I know that I notice more about the world since I've met her.

Some days I even think I'm starting to really understand her when she talks, and even to have some idea of why she does the things that others find so odd. Of course, there are still many times when I'm completely clueless about her motivations, or even about what she's trying to say.

This time, though, she doesn't say anything; just looks at me, and then away. The clouds in her eyes seem to drift in more closely, as though she's fading back into the permanent fog that so often separates her from the world where I live.

There was a time when this would frustrate, irritate, and baffle me. But when dealing with her, I've learned not to rely too much on words, or even expressions. I've come to believe that there are two ways to understand Rin. The first is to watch what she paints. The second is to watch what she does. Of course, to do either sometimes you've got to do something to provoke a reaction, because her default state is motionless, quiet, and introverted.

This time I try a hug. I can feel her resist for a moment, but then sure enough she suddenly relaxes into me in her equivalent of an embrace. How does an armless person hug you? I've found that it's hard to describe, but when it happens, you know. She gently lifts my chin with her head, and tucks herself into me. I'm surprised anew by the warmth of her. It's always seemed to me that she runs a few degrees hotter than anyone else, although I've never noticed a measurable difference on the thermometer on the few occasions she's been sick.

The hug helped, I think, but I still catch the sigh that lets me know she's not completely happy. I keep her tucked up against me, enjoying the feel of her slim body in my arms. After a minute or so, she seems to feel better, and lifts her face up for a kiss. Satisfied, I head off to rescue the eggs, which are only slightly singed, and then go upstairs to the bathroom to take a shower. Today Rin joins me. Actually, she wanders in halfway through, shrugs out of the old button down shirt that she "borrowed" from me six months ago as a sleep shirt, and bonks her head into the glass door of the shower until I let her in. Rin _can_ dress or undress herself in a few basic outfits, and open the shower door, but it's a lot easier for her with help.

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><p>AN: I know this is kind of an abrupt ending for the chapter. I had originally written a monster 4k word first chapter, and I decided to split it for readability (also because I'm still tweaking the second half). The story as a whole is already written, though (roughly 15k words right now), so I'm just doing tweaks here and there. I'm planning to update a couple times a week as my schedule permits. Hope you enjoyed it! I enjoy reviews. Maybe we can all be happy? :)


	2. Chapter 2

I've found that there's both a certain economy of time, and a great deal of fun in washing together with her. My usual approach is to soap myself up and then wrap her up in a big hug and wriggle frantically, distributing soap all across her front and doing a little scrubbing in the process. Most times that gets a giggle out of her, and today is no exception. In my opinion, a Ren giggle is worth the effort.

"Turn around," I say, and repeat the process from behind. She shoots me a look over her shoulder as I do. For some reason, the sight of her looking back at me like out of the corner of her eye always raises a jolt of heat low down in my gut. She glances down, and the sudden sparkle in her eye tells me she's noticed my reaction, but after I've finished soaping up her back, she just steps back to let me rinse myself off. I step back into the spray, turning in a circle to make sure I get all the soap, and then closing my eyes and leaning my head back to rinse the shampoo out of my hair. It's while I'm in this position that I suddenly feel a wave of sensation so unexpected and powerful that my knees buckle and I almost fall. My eyes pop open while water streams down my face, and I blink frantically down through bleary eyes to see Rin on her knees, grinning up at me. When I say grinning, of course, I mean that her green eyes are alight with mirth and mischief, because despite my sudden movement, she's still managed to keep her lips wrapped around me and the things she's doing with her tongue are indescribable. After three or four seconds, she stops, releases me. Now she smiles for real, but the dreamy, introspective look is already creeping back into her face.

"I'm getting soap in my eyes," she says. I'm still recovering my powers of speech, so she goes on in a patient voice, "so you'd better come out from under the water or I'm not going to have time to finish before the eggs get cold."

Somehow, as much as I've come to love Rin's usual dreamy, otherworldly behavior, it's the moments when she's most present and practical that always bring my heart swelling into my throat in a way that I'm sure has nothing to do with my condition. Of course, given the swelling that's currently going on in other places, I don't hesitate long.

Whenever Ren does this, it's always something special. A lifetime spent using her mouth to manipulate objects has made her lips and tongue extraordinarily mobile and precise in movement. I don't have much standard for comparison, but I can't imagine there are many people better at this. It doesn't take long for her to coax me to the edge, and then, as my gasping reaches a crescendo, she opens her mouth wide and leans in hard as the world flashes white and I have to clutch at the shower handles to keep from falling. As the bright stars fade from my vision, I can see just enough to watch her rise to her feet with self-assured grace, lean into the water with her mouth open, swish it around for a second, and spit it out into the drain. Given that my eyes were probably rolled completely back in my head for a couple of seconds, I'm not sure exactly what happened there at the end, but it was clearly pretty spectacular.

I'm trembling and weak in the knees as she tucks herself back up under my chin for a second in her equivalent of a quick hug before she smoothly elevates one foot, gracefully manipulates the door with her toes, and steps out of the shower without a word. I take a second to clean myself up and turn off the water, and by the time I join her in the steam-filled bathroom I'm feeling a bit steadier. I help her brush her teeth before doing my own, and then I dress us both, me in my usual Monday morning suit, and her in faded blue panties, a matching bra, and a printed yellow sundress that slips easily over her head. Rin used to wear a boy's uniform at school so she could use her legs and feet to do much of the work of arms and hands without flashing her undergarments at the world, but inside of our apartment she seems to prefer not to have to wrestle with buttons and zippers every time she needs to answer a call of nature. Freshly dressed and washed, we head down the creaky stairs to the kitchen. The landlord told me when we moved in that the apartment was built out of what was once an upstairs attic and servant's quarters on the floor below, and so it's split across two levels; bedroom, bathroom and the living area that doubles as Rin's studio upstairs, and kitchen and entryway below. A rickety steel-and-wood circular staircase links the two. The whole place smells faintly musty, and in the winter the roof leaks from time to time, but it's got plenty of natural light and space for Rin to work, and frankly, on my salary, we're lucky to be able to afford it.

After a breakfast of fried eggs (over-extremely-hard), I head off to work, extracting a kiss from Rin on the way to the door. I linger over it, and she shoots me a green eyed look of triumph afterwards. I can tell she's proud of the results of her attempt to please me earlier. It's simultaneously so endearing and erotic that I almost grab her up for round two, and work be damned, but better sense intervenes. With uncharacteristic awareness of social conventions, she wishes me a good day at work as I reach for the doorknob, but as I close the door, I can already see her head turning to look up through the back wall of the kitchen and the floor above to where her paints and brushes and easel stand, eyes already fading into that misty realm where whatever inspires her creativity lives; that place which I can see in her eyes, but never visit.

Work goes well. There's a new part-time teller today, a pretty blonde American who's apparently teaching English at a cram school in the evenings at the local university and working here during the day. She informs us of this when the bank manager asks her to introduce herself. I'm a little surprised she'd admit to moonlighting so freely - most Japanese employers expect their people to focus only on the one job, but maybe things are different in America. Regardless, it doesn't seem to be a surprise to the manager. Maybe he's got other things in mind than her capabilities as a teller. She's tall, blonde, and well-endowed, as many western women are. Still, it's a little disconcerting to hear: _Hi, my name is Helen, I'm from America, and I teach English at the University at night._ She forgets the bow until the end - I'd imagine she hasn't been here long, although her Japanese is good, if a bit accented. Thanks to Hollywood, I suspect no one minds very much, and anyway it isn't likely that the other employees will pass up the chance to practice their English, and with a pretty blonde at that. It's a prized skill, and it's hard to find a native speaker to correct your idioms and help you with your accent. Come to think of it, that may be why the manager is so tolerant of her work situation - a teller who speaks English as a native could be useful as a tutor for him if he wants to move up in the company, and she'll certainly add some class to the joint.

It's odd that I don't much notice attractive women these days. There was a girl back at school who was half Scottish, and I certainly noticed her. Helen is about as attractive as Lilly was, although in a slightly less composed and serene way, and I should probably feel the urge to stare at her, but I don't. Maybe I've become domesticated, what my lascivious uncle would scornfully call a "grass eater." I wonder if maybe I should think some more about the situation, but then it's time for opening and I don't have time to consider it again until lunch. I grab a sandwich and a juice box from the vending machine outside the corner store next door, and eat quietly by myself in the break room, slightly apart from the other staff. Partway through, I look up to catch Helen looking at me, but before I can react she's looked away again.

The rest of the day passes without event. I don't notice Helen around as I clean my station, lock my drawer back up in the safe, and then pack up my briefcase and head out the door at half past five.


	3. Chapter 3

Rin is waiting for me as I open the door. That's unusual. She's sitting cross-legged in a chair at the kitchen table, watching the door. As soon as I step inside, she tells me:

"We got letters." She pauses for a second, seems to rethink that. "Actually, _you _got letters. I got letter." Her face splits open in a grin. "It's from Emi!"

Smiling at her enthusiasm, I glance at the table, and sure enough there are three letters there. I can see that the one on top is from my parents, and I recognize the green envelope as the gas bill, so Emi's letter must be in the red envelope at the bottom.

Stepping inside, I lean in to receive a distracted kiss from Rin. She kisses me sideways, never really taking her eyes from the letters on the table. Mildly put out at being denied her full attention, I reach over and pick them up. Flipping past the first two rapidly, I find the letter in the red envelope. _Ibarazaka_, reads the return address.

"It's from Emi," Rin repeats, her eyes clear and her face almost anxious in its intensity. "Can you open it, please?"

The mailman usually comes around lunchtime, so...

"Have you been staring at this all afternoon?" I ask her.

Her eyes never leave the envelope. "Not _all _afternoon," she says, and grins.

Rin doesn't usually open envelopes. It's possible, but it's hard for her and the risk of papercut is high, so usually she leaves them for me to open. She's so clearly excited that I rip it open right away, and unfold the letter to start reading. A smallish photograph drops from the letter and falls to the floor. I bend to pick it up, and see a shot of a petite blonde girl with two artificial runners' legs attached just below her knees. It's our schoolmate Emi. She and her mother stand proudly in front of what looks like a university athletic field, three medals around her neck. I hold it out to Rin so she can look, which she does with almost painful intensity. After a minute, she nods and then looks back at the letter.

"Read it, please," she asks me. I put down the photo, pick up the letter, and begin.

_Dear Rin,_

_I hope his letter finds you well. I got your new address from your mother - sorry I haven't written sooner. I've almost completed my first year of university! Classes are hard, but I'm doing well. I'm also enjoying the track team here - I've been representing us in the 100, 200, and 400 meter races, just like I did back at Yamaku. Last week I placed in all three at a tournament! I got gold in the 400 and 200, but only bronze in the 100. I guess I'll just need to train harder._

That last makes me shake my head. I've always been a bit worried about how hard Emi pushes herself, and more worried about why. The letter goes on for another page or two, mostly about what university is like, and the track team. On page three, however, the tone changes, becoming more hesitant.

_Are you still with Hisao? I've been wondering how to get in touch with him. Anyway, the real reason I'm writing is that I'll be in town for the last tournament of the year next month. It actually happens after the start of summer break, so I thought maybe if you didn't mind I could come visit for a few days afterwards. Hope to hear from you soon._

_Love,_

_Emi_

She's written her phone number at the bottom.

I look up, and Rin is smiling gently, staring off into space.

"How about it," I ask her. "Should we tell her to come visit?"

She only hesitates a second before nodding firmly. "Emi likes sweets," she says. Apparently she's already worried about what we'll feed her. I decide to take that as a yes.

Afterwards, she hovers behind me and talks about silly, random things while I make chicken stir-fry for dinner; musings on clouds and the relationship between music and houseplants, and the significance of soap bubbles. I let it all wash over me while I shake the wok and scrape the spoon along the bottom, turning the chunks of chicken and vegetable, understanding maybe one sentence in three.  
>I don't think she's especially hungry, but I've found that when she isn't painting she tends to come to wherever I am. Anyone else might slip their arms around you, or pull up a chair nearby, but Rin seems content to simply be, floating within easy reach of my arms. She doesn't always chatter this much - this Emi thing must have her excited.<p>

I finish up with the meat and veggies, so I turn down the heat and put the cover on the wok. While I'm waiting for the rice cooker to finish up, I turn around and pull her in close. She doesn't react at first, she just stops talking and stands there. But after a second, I feel her lean in. Her head tilts to the side, turns up, and she regards me solemnly from inside the circle of my arms. Then she slowly rises up on her toes, lifts her chin, and presses her lips to mine. It's not long, but it's enough. Behind me, the button clicks on the rice maker. Her eyes go far away, and she sags back down into herself, her thoughts sent off in god-knows what direction by the mundane sound. After a second, I let her go so I can make up the plates and set the table - fork for her, chopsticks for me.

As we sit down, she asks, "Do you suppose chickens play games with each other?"

It's so unexpected that I have to laugh. She looks at me oddly, as if wondering why I would think that was a funny question. She's animated and alert over dinner. We talk about my day at work, and after dinner we play checkers. Rin beats me, two games out of three.

After, we go for a walk, just the two of us, no particular direction, just wandering aimlessly around the city for an hour or so, and then as night falls we head back home. When I unlock the security gate at the bottom of the stairs in our building, she suddenly eels past me, turns and grins wickedly, and says:

"Race you!"

Before I can react, she takes off, the empty sleeves of her shirt fluttering behind her as she runs. I lumber up the stairs after her, but I've got no chance. At the top of the second flight, my heart thumps once, painfully, and I stop short. Rin keeps running, and reaches the top of the third flight where our door is and whirls around, red hair flung out around her like a halo, face flushed with delight. Even with the pain in my chest, that gets a smile out of me.

"Beat you!" she cries. I congratulate her, and then climb up to work the key and let us in. Thankfully, she doesn't seem to notice that I'm moving gingerly.

Later, I make popcorn and we sit on the couch watching game show reruns while I feed her popcorn until it's time for bed. Rin seems to enjoy it, and laughs uproariously when a small dog does a whole bunch of backflips in a row. I take advantage of the moment when her mouth is open to pop a piece of popcorn into it. A look of surprise crosses her face, and then she looks over at me and grins widely while she chews it, green eyes fixed on my face. Rin loves gameshows. I've no idea why.

As we both start to get sleepy, she wiggles in closer to me and brings one foot up with boneless nonchalance to nestle into my hand like a small animal burrowing for warmth. Her toes find my fingers, and they twine together as we sit.

It's a good night.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I hope you've all enjoyed the domestic fluff so far, because things aren't going to say quite that happy, I'm afraid (and seriously, aren't you all catatonic from the sugar content yet?). The way I see Rin, that here-again, gone-again creative fugue she gets herself into is going to be hell on a relationship, no matter how committed her partner. Rin is fragile, one moment cute and quirky, the next vacant and distracted as her creative focus waxes and wants._

_My thanks to all those who've read and reviewed! It's great motivation to see how many people are reading this, but I appreciate the occasional comment as well, good, bad, or indifferent._

******************Thursday November 15th*****************************

The alarm wakes me up to a cold empty bed. I shut it off and sit up. Rin is already sitting in her painting pose, seated in a chair in front of the easel, brush held gracefully poised between her toes. I stumble out of bed and wander over to look over her shoulder. As usual, the colors and composition are bold, abstract, and completely incomprehensible to me. The painting looks to be in an early stage - all I can see are a rough human figure and the shape of a tree in the center of the painting.

When she's working like this, I don't usually disturb her. Sometimes she doesn't even notice me when I try. Instead I slip off to the bathroom to get ready for work. She's still working when I'm ready to leave, so I just walk by and drop a kiss on the back of her neck and then lean around to look at her face. Her eyes never leave the painting, but her lips pull back into a fractional smile for just a second. Grabbing my briefcase, I head for the door.

Today the boss has me going through some expense sheets for bank employees. It's mind-numbing work, matching receipts to account debits, but I keep at it. After just a few minutes, the door opens and Helen comes in. She pauses in the doorway as I look up, and she seems to hesitate for a second before she bows. I put down the stack of receipts I was holding and stand to return it. She takes the chair across from me, sitting down and idly picking up a pile of receipts. After a moment, she looks up at me from under her eyelashes, her eyes a surprising deep blue.

"I'm Helen," she says, and sticks out her hand. I stare at it for a second, before I remember my high school English classes and reach out to take it awkwardly. She blushes a bit as she realizes what she's done.

"Hisao Nakai," I say.

"I know," she says. I'm puzzled, but I suppose somebody must have told her who I was. "Mr. Takahashi asked me to come help you," she says.

I nod. There _is _a lot of work here for one person.

"Of course," I say. I explain what I'm doing, show her the basics, and we settle down to work. The silence starts out awkwardly, but after a few minutes we start to talk, idle conversation about the weather, and what it's like working at the bank. She tells me she worked in a bank in New York City, but that she moved to Japan because she heard it was beautiful and she wanted a change of pace. She pauses, awkwardly after that, which makes me think that maybe there's more to that story. She's a good worker, eyes darting back and forth between receipts and account statements, the pen in her hand always in motion, making small marks on each in turn and checking them off her list. After a while, I ask her why her Japanese is so good. She seems surprised:

"Why wouldn't it be?" she asks.

I shrug. "I didn't think most Americans learned Japanese," I say.

She looks thoughtful. "You're right," she says, "it's not offered in many schools and it isn't very popular anyway. I... took it in college."

Again, I sense that there's more to say, but she falls silent. I change the subject, and then it's time for lunch. I visit the vending machine and then sit down in the break room. After a minute, Helen comes in with a bag lunch and sits down across from me. She's got a bunch of American food, and we pass the lunch hour pleasantly discussing the differences between Japanese and American food. She is animated and articulate, and I find myself liking her right away. After lunch, the boss puts her out at the counter, so I finish the day alone. I have to stay a few minutes late to get all the work done, and by the time I'm finished she's left for the day. I catch the bus home and walk up the stairs to the apartment.

I open the door. No Rin. I call out, but there's no answer. Concerned, I lay my briefcase on the table and climb the stairs without even stopping to take my shoes off. Rin is right where I left her, still painting. The composition has grown. The human form is more distinct, with a large head and red and blue dragons swirling around it. The tree has grown, and its branches seem to curve over top of the figure. Above, the sky is dark, and snow falls from the clouds to settle on the ground around the tree and in its branches. Under the tree, the figure stands in a small remaining patch of green.

It seems hopeful, somehow, although it makes me a little uneasy as well. Like most of Rin's paintings, I can only guess at its meaning. I've learned better than to ask Rin questions about her art - it just seems to confuse her.

Right now she's paused, dripping brush held between her toes, eyes fixed on the composition. I say her name, and her gaze doesn't even flicker. I try again, with no response. I see she's still wearing the clothes she wore to bed last night. After a minute, I head downstairs to take off my shoes and get started on dinner. Eventually the smell brings her down the stairs to the kitchen, eyes cloudy and vacant. Over dinner, Rin is distant, distracted, and barely speaks, but she eats ravenously. I'm guessing she hasn't had any food all day, but she just looks puzzled when I ask her about it.

After dinner, I talk her into a bath. As the tub fills, I watch her. She stands unmoving in the middle of the bathroom while steam swirls around her. Her face has small smudges of paint on it. Her face is turned partly away from me, and I suddenly realize that she's looking through the wall of the bathroom out into the studio and toward her painting. Undressing her is like undressing a doll. She doesn't resist, but she doesn't help either.

She stays in the same distant, distracted state while I tenderly wash her face and hair, and then set to work on her body. She doesn't have much body hair anywhere on her, but the thick weight of the red locks on her head more than makes up for that in volume. She doesn't react even when I rub soap on her breasts and gently reach between her legs to clean her. I clean myself, and then stand and help her out of the tub.

It's early, but she doesn't seem to know what to do with herself, so I figure I'll tuck her in to bed anyway. She doesn't sleep enough as it is when she's in a creative funk like this. As gently lay her down, she suddenly arches up into me, lips finding mine in a hard, clumsy, and somehow distracted kiss. I'm surprised, but I manage not to drop her. As her head hits the pillow, she looks up at me with an expression that manages to combine equal parts desperate desire and cloudy-eyed distance.

I've seen this before. She gets like this, sometimes, when she's in the middle of a painting. It's as though she's numbed by the effort of creation, pushed beyond the bounds of the human and corporeal into some cold alien world of ideas and inspiration, and she desperately needs human contact to bring her back, to anchor her here in this world. These moments are always troubling for me, but I know that somehow she needs this, needs _me_ to help her through this.

I kiss her gently on the lips again, and then kiss my way slowly down her chest, pausing a moment to lick each pebbled nipple through the material of the nightshirt. Once I reach her belly, I sit up and kiss my way down one bare leg, pausing just a moment before I drop the last kiss into the slight valley along the line of the large tendon, nestled among the highly-developed muscles of her inner thigh. Her breath hitches and her hips jerk up toward me, but I just switch legs and kiss my way down that one instead, back and forth until I can tell she's ready, her hips writhing softly and her mouth just slightly open. I reach down and hook my fingers into the sides of her panties and pull them gently down her legs and lean into the soft warmth and scent of her. Looking up, I smile for her, and I see her cloudy eyes are watching me even though her expression doesn't change.

I can feel her need in the bucking and writhing motion of her hips as I lick her up and down, plunge my tongue into her warm depths. She's desperate, grinding against my face faster and faster, her heel on the back of my neck pulling me in so tight I can barely breathe. Just before she comes, she sits up, straining herself forward until I can see her face, her green eyes huge, and finally, I can see that she _sees _me, and for a long, stretched moment she stares at me, hunger and longing and recognition in her eyes, and then her eyes snap closed as she arches involuntarily, head flung back and out of sight as her legs spasm and her hips buck against me and then she collapses in a boneless heap, little spasms running through her legs and across the bare skin of her stomach. She's breathing hard and fast, but her eyes are closed and her face is tranquil.

Afterwards, I hold her until I think she's asleep. I tenderly tuck her in and then leave her there, sprawled among the pillows. I figure she can use the rest, but if she wants to get up and do something else she can do it herself. As I move to stand up, her eyes open, clouded and distant again, looking past me and up at the ceiling. After a moment, she rolls her body to face the easel out in the darkened room, eyes open and staring and empty. I watch for a second, loneliness like a lead weight under my breastbone. Some part of me hates it when she goes away like this. It's like she's left me behind to go off somewhere and left her body behind, sleepwalking through our life. At least her expression has lost that mad, desperate edge that makes me afraid for her sanity, that she'll do something to hurt herself.

I'm not sleepy, so I go to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth, and then I climb downstairs to put my briefcase away. On the table by the case I notice the two letters from yesterday. I open the green gas company bill, look at the number, and then use my phone to transfer money from my account to pay it. I put the phone down and look at the other envelope. With a start, I recognize my mother's handwriting. I rip it open and read.

_My dear son,_

_As I'm sure you remember, your father's birthday is coming up on the 17th..._

I'd forgotten completely. I grab my phone back up, look at the date. The 15th. The letter goes on.

_I hope we can expect to see you this year. Perhaps you can bring your young woman with you? We're anxious to meet her._

This again. They've both brought this up more than once. I can understand, of course. Rin and I have been together a year, half of that living together in this apartment, and they've yet to meet her. I'd be upset too, but what can I do? Rin has been doing well lately, but still...

My parents have trouble accepting _my _condition. How can I expect them to understand her? I'm afraid of their disapproval, but I'm more afraid of losing Rin again. I've never been so confused and lost as the times early on in our relationship when she and I were struggling to connect across the gulf between the separate worlds we inhabit. We're doing pretty well now, and I'm afraid to do anything to rock the boat.

I know my parents won't understand her. And that's to say nothing of her physical limitations. My father is a bit old-fashioned, and old-fashioned Japanese men do not look favorably on the physically deformed. I care about his regard, even if I disagree with his attitudes, but I'm even more worried that he'll say something to put Rin into a downward spiral of self-doubt. It's happened before, and I never want to know how close she came to harming herself the last time.

Right on cue, the phone rings, and it's my mother. After some pleasantries, she asks me about coming up to visit. She's gentle, but insistent, and eventually I cave in and promise I'll talk to Rin about it and call her back. I disconnect the call and look up to find Rin standing on the balcony, looking down at me in the kitchen. Her eyes are still distant and clouded, and she's moving her feet, shuffling them from side to side gently.

"Hi love," I say. "Why are you up?"

"I heard you talking," she says. "Are we going to visit your parents?"

"If you want to," I say.

Her face doesn't change as she thinks about it. "Yes," she says, "That's probably a good idea. They might forget that you exist, otherwise." She turns and walks away, out of sight into the studio. The light clicks on, and I hear the creak as she sits back down in her chair.

Sighing, I head back up and read for an hour or two before I turn in. She barely notices when I say goodnight, so intent is she on her work. I kiss her cold cheek and head off to bed, feeling just a little empty and lost.


	5. Chapter 5

**************************Friday November 16th *********************

Next morning I wake early to find her asleep next to me. There are paint smudges on her cheeks and lips, and I'm afraid to look at her feet, or the state of the sheets. I turn off the alarm before it can go off, and rise to wash and dress as quietly as I can. She's still asleep, so I leave her a note on the kitchen table. The painting is nowhere to be seen. After breakfast, I head out for work. I call my mother from the bus station and tell her we're coming the next day. She sounds glad, but there's still an anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I'm sorting receipts again this morning. Helen is there, and we fall easily back into conversation. The morning passes pleasantly, and we're making good progress. I'm about to head over to the vending machine when Helen and Jiro, one of the other tellers, come over to tell me that a group of them are going out to a restaurant for lunch, because it's Friday and they want to celebrate the start of the weekend. Do I want to come?

I agree without a second thought. I'm having a good day, and there's no reason not to. We decide to go to an American restaurant in deference to our newest employee. The waitstaff wear strange hats and odd, formal uniforms. Helen calls it a "diner," but I'm not sure if she's talking about the restaurant or the clothes they're wearing. She's having a great time helping us decide what to eat. In the end we all order hamburgers and "cheese fries." The food is greasy and salty, but delicious. Helen is in her element, laughing and talking. It strikes me at once how beautiful she is, and I know that's not lost on the others. She tosses her hair and flashes her dimples when she laughs, and then runs over to pick out songs on the jukebox. As we walk back, she comes up alongside and engages me in conversation until we're back at the bank. That afternoon, I'm on counter until closing. On the way out, Helen waves me down and asks me to walk her to the bus stop. Mr. Takahashi gives me a look, but doesn't say anything in the end. I wait with her at the bus stop until the bus comes.

We make small talk 'till her stop. As she gets up to disembark, she hesitates in the doorway, blonde hair swirling around her face as she turns towards me. She opens her mouth like she's going to say something, then smiles and steps down off of the bus.

As the bus pulls away, it hits me. The conversations, the looks, the request to walk her to the bus stop - she likes me. The girl that every male in the bank (including my boss) spends all day staring at is interested - _in me_.

Conflicting thoughts and images swirl in my mind. The flash of blue eyes behind a swirl of blonde hair, the dimples on her cheeks as she laughs at lunch today. Then Rin's face rises up over all of it, her cloudy, distantly green eyes silently accusing me of disloyalty, even as I tell myself that I didn't know, didn't mean to encourage this. Thinking back, though, it's obvious, and some part of me knew it. I'm sure my coworkers have noticed. I feel guilty, and excited, and flattered, all at the same time. The confusing welter of emotions hasn't completely faded by the time I walk through the door.

I stop in my tracks, ice filling my veins. The apartment is dark. I feel my way to the light switch, flick it on, and quickly search the rooms. No Rin. I call her cellphone. The ringing sound makes me jump, and I turn to see it lying uselessly on the kitchen table. Worry floods through me. _Why did she leave the phone? _She's out there, alone, somewhere in the city. I look out the window, and see that the sky is rapidly darkening into night. It's not that I don't think she can get around on her own, it's just that she's never done this, not in the six months we've lived here. Every night, I've come home to find her on the couch, or in the kitchen, or painting up in the studio.

I make myself a cup of instant tea and settle in to wait. After an hour, the sky outside is almost completely dark, and I decide I've waited long enough. Leaving her phone on the table, I leave the apartment again, locking it behind me, and rush down the steps to the street. Outside, the city is just starting to light up, streetlamps and windows glowing yellow up and down the street. I walk around the block. No Rin. On a hunch, I make my way down the street towards the shopping mall, and suddenly I spot a pair of pedestrians walking towards me, a small, thin, familiar figure next to a large man in a policeman's uniform. He's loaded down with shopping bags. Relief and anger mix and churn in my stomach, and I run over. When she sees me, her eyes light up, and she calls my name, but suddenly the anger I'm feeling seems to burst from my mouth as I come to a stop.

"Where have you been?" I demand to know.

Her eyes widen in surprise, then round out into a hurt and ashamed look.

"Hisao... what's wrong?" she asks.

For some reason, that just makes me angrier.

"I was worried! You can't just wander off, something might have happened to you!" the hurt and worry on her face gives way to resentment. The police officer is looking at me disapprovingly.

"I was trying..." she trails off, "trying..." she seems to lose the thread of the conversation. "Did you know pigeons like popcorn?" she asks.

The policeman shoots her a funny look, but my anger is an almost palpable thing now, and it has me by the throat so hard I can barely speak. I can't believe she's been feeding pigeons while I've been worried sick over her.

The policeman clears his throat and holds out the bags to me. "Excuse me," he says. "I'll just be going. You two have a good evening." With a sympathetic look at Rin, he turns and walks back the way he came, back toward the shopping mall. I look back at her in time for her to push past me without a word. She runs all the way back to the apartment without waiting for me. I can't keep up, not with my heart condition and all of these bags. Instead, I trudge home to find the door hanging open and the lights off again. Sighing, I pile the bags on the table, flip on the light, and go looking for her. She's in bed, the covers pulled up to her chin, facing the wall. I call her name, but she won't look at me. I can see she's filthy, but I don't bother asking if she wants a shower. We're obviously both too upset. While I'm standing in the shower, the water seems to wash the anger off of me along with the sweat and grime of the day, and I realize what an ass I've been.

I wasn't angry at her, not really. I was worried, yes, when I came home to find her gone, but I know full well that Rin can generally take care of herself out in the city. She might get lost for a while, or decide to climb into a storm drain to look for trolls, but she's not completely unable to look out for herself.

No this is about me. I was ashamed of what's been going on with Helen, of the thoughts I've been having, and instead of taking responsibility for my emotions, I took them out on her. It was unfair, and cruel. By the time I get out, I'm more than ready to apologize, but she won't respond when I say her name, or when I tell her I'm sorry. Being ignored stings, and I can't bring myself to explain my revelation about my own pettiness when she won't even look at me.

Weary and heartsick, I lie down beside her and try to take her in my arms, but she violently shrugs me off. I keep my distance, and eventually I move to the couch and sleep there. In the morning I half expect her to say she doesn't want to go with me to my parents, but by the time I wake up she's already managed to pack two large bags and a flat square box. I guess she wants to bring a painting to work on while she's there.


	6. Chapter 6

**************Saturday, November 17th********************

While we're getting ready to leave, I overdo it a bit as I'm wrestling our bags down the staircase. My heart thumps loudly once, twice while pain shoots through my chest. I can see Rin on the last step of the stairway, face coming up to look at me, vacant look fading away. My heart spasms again, and suddenly I can't breathe as black spots dance in my vision.

Rin's eyes are wide in concern. I try to tell her it's okay, but when I open my mouth, nothing comes out. I reach out for her, and Rin pushes forward into me, ducking under my outstretched arm and stepping in close. With bruising haste, she butts my chin up with her forehead and presses in tight to my chest, so close I can feel her heartbeat through my shirt. Its light, regular pulse flutters against my chest, in counterpoint to my painfully arrythmatic stutter.

Another pulse of pain shoots through my chest, and then suddenly I feel my heartbeat steady, speeding up to beat in counterpoint to hers. She stays snuggled up against me until my breathing slows back to normal. After a minute she steps away, green eyes dark with concern. I'm lost for words. After a few seconds, she stands on tiptoes to kiss me, and then walks away and comes back with a juicebox in her teeth. Pressing it into my hand, she retreats a few paces and watches while I drink it.

By the time I've finished it, she's retreated back into her head again and I know she's still upset with me.

The train ride is quietly awkward. She sits next to me, quiet and detached, wearing a boy's suit jacket that I haven't seen before. She barely says half a dozen words to me, so I spend most of the trip reading. The train station is only half a mile or so from my parents house, which is a good thing, since with all the bags and the large box she packed I'm out of breath and panting before I even get out of the station. I decide to hail a cab, and after the driver loads the bags into the trunk, we ride the rest of the way in the same silence. For some reason, Rin asks the driver to circle past my parents house and stop in front of a gas station. We get out, and the driver opens the trunk. She leans in, unzips one of the larger bags with her mouth, and then uses her feet to root around until she pulls out a small bag. The driver stares at her the whole time. I guess he didn't realize before that the sleeves of her jacket were empty. On reflection, I realize that maybe that was the point of the garment. She starts toward the gas station, saying:

"Wait here," and I figure she means the driver, but when I start to follow her she turns and says "You too, Hisao." Then she walks to the front door, which opens automatically, and disappears inside.

When she comes out ten minutes later, she's wearing clothes I've never seen before: a pale green sundress with a light tan wool short-sleeved open front sweater. I guess maybe she bought the outfit at the shopping mall yesterday. She looks beautiful, her red hair and green eyes set off by the color of the dress, and the sleeves of the sweater dangle daintily like ornaments from her tiny shoulders.

My parents greet us at the door. It's awkward, but Rin puts her best foot forward. She bows formally to both my parents, and introduces herself. She nudges my arm, the one with the box tucked underneath, and tells them:

"Thank you for inviting us to your home. Please accept this gift. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

This is the first I've heard that its a gift. I'm surprised, but I manage to hand the box over to my father without bobbling it. They both look pleasantly surprised as well. It's a good start, but it doesn't last. When I help her out of her coat, my father stares for a moment, and then gasps as he realizes what he's seeing. Rin freezes and cringes just a bit, looking at me with wide eyes. It occurs to me suddenly that I never told my parents about Rin's condition. I don't have time to wonder why I didn't - things are already spiraling out of control. My father is staring back and forth between Rin and I, and she's carefully avoiding noticing his behavior. My mother is keeping her eyes locked on our faces and trying to maintain a facade of courtesy in the face of her own surprise and confusion. Rin is humiliated, my parents are stiff and formal, and it's all my fault. When they turn to go up the stairs, I whisper to Rin.

"I'm so sorry, I just never thought to tell them..." but I don't have time for more. My parents have turned around at the top of the stairs and I put on my polite face again. I know, in the pit of my stomach, that dinner is going to be awful.

* * *

><p>Her wine glass falls to the floor and breaks cleanly in two at the stem. A spreading red stain blooms around the broken glass.<p>

"Rin," I moan. "Could you please try..." It's the last straw. She stands up suddenly, powerful legs knocking the chair backwards with a crash. She jumps at the sound, looks around wildly, gasps out "excuse me," sketches a bow to my parents and flees the room. I catch her at the door.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" I hiss.

The words pour out in a torrent; she barely pauses to take a breath.

"You're embarrassed by me, Hisao. I'm just your stupid, irresponsible, crazy cripple girlfriend. You'd be better off without me, and you know it and I know it and everyone knows it and I'm the reason you don't talk to your parents and why you're not in university learning to be a science teacher like you wanted. I'm just poor crazy Rin, and you can't trust me to do anything on my own, because I'll get lost, or distracted, or screw things up. I'm like a pet rabbit that you have to keep locked up for its own good or I'd get out and hurt myself or get eaten by a cat. I'm no good with words and I'm no good at life, and I just want you to be you with me and us together and not your doll, or your patient, or your baby, or your burden. I just..."

She whirls, face pale and strangely calm, and runs down the stairs, fumbling at the latch with her toes until she gets it open and then runs out into the street, leaving one sandal behind on the hall carpet. I stand frozen. A noise behind me makes me turn, and I see my parents behind me, staring at me with wide eyes and disappointed expressions. After a second, my mother says in a strained voice:

"Hisao. Maybe you should go after her?"

I go down the stairs and out the door, but she's got a good heart, and she doesn't stop running for three blocks, through which it's all I can do to keep her in sight. Finally she stops, but I don't catch up with her until she's almost at the train station. By then I'm angry and humiliated at having had to chase her all the way here.

"What was that about?" I demand to know. She won't meet my eyes. I try to grab her shoulders, but she wriggles free and backs away, still refusing to make eye contact.

"I want to go home," she says, and turns and walks to the station. Nothing I say seems to make a difference, so in the end I have to call my parents from the platform to tell them that I'm taking Rin home and that I'll be back in the morning to pick up our bags. My mother sounds worried. I can't believe Rin acted that way - why couldn't she keep it together in front of my parents? I'd thought she was doing better, but maybe I was mistaken.

The train ride home is even more awkward, which I wouldn't have thought was possible. When we get home, she goes straight to bed again, and won't respond to me, not even when I yell. I spend the night on the couch again.

* * *

><p><em>AN: So I'm beginning to get the sense that my readers are a bit upset with the direction this is headed. I say unto you: chill out. For those of you unable to do so and desperate for reassurance, check out William Shakepeare's _A Midsummer Night's Dream_, Act 1, Scene 1, lines 132-134. And that's all the spoiler you're getting. More Rin tomorrow, hopefully.  
><em>


	7. Chapter 7

*************************Sunday November 18th**********************

When I get up, I go to check on her and find her lying facing the wall again. Her eyes are open, but she won't acknowledge my presence. Finally I shower, brush my teeth, and head back to the train station, grabbing breakfast from a vending machine at the station. I read all the way through the ride.

When I reach my parents house, my father is out, but my mother is there. She serves tea, and carefully doesn't ask me about yesterday. I'm all ready to go, carrying the bags, when she asks me to remember to thank Rin for the thoughtful present. She gestures at the wall, and here, hanging, is the painting from the apartment.

_The tree is beautifully detailed, branches and vines twine along its trunk, but in the center is a knothole in the shape of a heart, with a jagged crack through it. Nested high up in its branches is a sun, bright and shining. The branches reach up and over and curl protectively around a figure that I can clearly see now is Rin, her halo of red hair inside a spiraling ring of dragons and griffons and other fanciful creatures. Above the tree, stormclouds pour down snow and hail, but underneath the tree the Rin figure stands in a lush meadow where the snow doesn't reach, her face turned up toward the sun in the tree like a sunflower. _

There's one more detail I missed the last time I saw this - this Rin has arms; long, straight arms, one held high above her head reaching up for something high up in the branches of the tree, and the other placed protectively over the tree's broken heart.

Suddenly I see a flash of her going back to her easel the night I told her we were going to visit my parents. She must have stayed up all night finishing this, painting through the dark and snatching a few hours of sleep before walking down to the mall alone to buy new clothes so she could make a good impression on my parents.

As I rush out of the house, I could swear my mother smiles. I spend the whole train ride home planning my apology.

She listens gravely, then nods once before wandering off. I'm not completely forgiven, I know, but she seems willing to leave it alone for now. She starts a new painting that afternoon, and paints all through the night.

*******************Monday, November 19th*******************

She's still at it in the morning. On my way downstairs, I catch a glimpse of it.

_A bright red round man with his arms up over his head in an odd, awkward stance stands in the middle of an orange circle, chained to an enormous steel ball. All around him, jeering faces leer down from seats like spectators in the coliseum. A bold black line runs the length of his oddly-shaped body._

The picture makes me shiver, a chill running down my spine. I think about it all the way to work.

* * *

><p>Mr. Takahashi is watching me for some reason. I've been on the counter all morning, and every time I look up to greet a customer I see him lingering at the door to his office, watching me. At first, I can't think what the problem is and then Helen comes out of the staff area and I see him switch to staring at her. After a minute, he's back to me.<p>

Ah.

I dimly recall something in the employee handbook about a prohibition on office relationships. Either Mr. Takahashi is concerned about a potential violation of policy, or he's concerned that I'll violate office policy with Helen before he has the chance to. Either way, this spells trouble.

I think about that during the rest of the morning. What should I do? On the one hand Helen is sweet and fun to talk to, and as long as I don't encourage her it's not like I'm doing anything wrong. On the other hand, I need this job, and if it's going to upset Mr. Takahashi that could be a problem. All too soon, it's lunchtime and as I make my way toward the breakroom I'm still not sure what to do.

* * *

><p>I don't realize what's happening until she's already halfway through the stammered confession. Helen, her beautiful blue eyes round and pleading. <em>Hisao, you're special to me. <em>I don't know what to say, don't know how to respond - this isn't right, it's too soon for her to be doing something like this, and anyway, I'm not going to hurt Rin more than I already have, no matter how tempted I am by this girl. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out, and so I turn, wordless, and walk towards the lobby, blindly looking for air, for space.

It's the wrong move. She catches me in the middle of the lobby, spins me around, seizes my shoulders, and...

I'm frozen in shock, and so the kiss isn't really much to speak of. After a second, she realizes I'm not kissing her back and she steps back. My face must say it all - she looks stricken, stammers an apology, and then turns and runs down the hallway and out the back door towards the parking lot. I can't believe what just happened. The other tellers are staring, the patrons are staring, and the only sound in the room is the front door slamming closed behind someone as they hastily exit. I almost turn to look, but what's the point? I can see plenty of shocked and amused eyes staring at me right now, what's one more pair? I wish I could melt into the floor and disappear. To make things worse, I can see Mr. Takahashi standing in the door of his office, scowling thunderously. When he sees me looking, he becons imperiously. I duck my head and scuttle for the office, trying to ignore the whispers and titters rising all around me.

The lecture is no less than I deserve - this has gone way too far. It wasn't my intention to lead Helen on to this point. Maybe she _was _moving too fast, but she's alone and lonely and I can understand that. I should have nipped this earlier, but I didn't, and now we've both been humiliated and my job is potentially at risk. Why didn't I act sooner? I could tell myself it was because I was just being nice, but the ugly truth is I was flattered by her attention. The pretty blonde American with two arms wanted _me_. I don't really want to think about what this says about my character. I'm just glad Rin wasn't around to see this. Helen hasn' t come back to the bank. I'm worried about her. I know now that I wasn't really interested in her, but she was becoming a friend, and this is the sort of thing that can haunt you for years.

* * *

><p>On the way out of the bank that evening, I overhear two of the other tellers gossiping about the kiss.<p>

"I don't think Hisao expected that. He didn't look very happy afterwards. If some western girl kissed me I think I'd be a lot happier about it. Did he look upset to you?"

"I don't know, I actually missed the whole thing. There was this girl that walked in right before it happened, and she had no arms. It was the weirdest thing I'd seen in a while. It's funny though, that thing with Helen and Hisao seemed to freak even her out; she just turned around and ran right out of the building!"

The sound of their shared chuckle fades to a distant hum in my ears as icewater fills my veins. I'm sure there are other armless girls in the world, but something in me just knows it was Rin. She must have come to see me, took the bus all the way down here just to see me and saw... that... instead.

I've got to get home right now. I skip the bus stop and race for the taxi stand. I tell the cabbie the address, shove a handful of yen at him, and tell him to floor it. He does.

It's already too late. As I burst through the door, heart pounding painfully from the run up the stairs, I instantly know that she's gone. The apartment is dark, and a quick inspection shows that a bunch of her things are missing - shoes, jacket, phone, some clothes and her toothbrush. Long before the phone rings, I know what it means. She's left, and I don't know if she's coming back. When I pick up, it's Sae from the gallery. She tells me that Rin came by earlier, but doesn't want to see me or speak to me. She ask me what's happened, and I can't bring myself to explain. She sounds angry at me, but that's nothing compared to my opinion of myself. I feel lethargic and shocked, immersed in a sort of glassy calm as my world unravels around me.

A brand new sketch sits on the easel in the studio, but most of the paints and pencils and brushes she uses are gone and the easel is at a funny angle that keeps me from making out the picture. I walk around to look, and my heart almost stops. The sketch is done in charcoal, rough and hurried. The paper is almost completely black, but in the center a small pool of white, like a spotlight, shines around a half-open coffin. From under the lid protrude dozens of arms, male, female, large, small, hooked monster claws, and even something that looks like a tentacle. I don't know what it means, but something in it tears at my heart.

My feet barely touch the stairs as I race to the street and hail another cab for the gallery.

I try the door to the atelier upstairs in the building next to the gallery. That's where I figure she'll be. The door is locked, and no amount of pounding can raise a response. I backtrack to the gallery, go through the doors. Sae is there, and when she looks up her face is carefully neutral. For once, I manage to be decisive.

"I know she's upset, but I have to apologize. I know I was wrong, but I need to do this. I need her. Please, tell me where Rin is."

She spreads her hands. "I don't know," she says. "Really I don't. Mr. Nomiya came by already to pick her up."

Nomiya. Our old art teacher. An old man living vicariously through his protege. A year ago he pushed Rin into a gallery exhibition (with my help, to my shame) that nearly broke her. After she walked away from the opening, she kept him at arms length. Or maybe I did? Either way, how badly did I hurt her that she was willing to go to him for help?

Sae is watching my face. "He knows you're looking for her. He never liked you, or the influence you had over Rin." She sighs. "I always though you were good for her, you know. Nomiya isn't a bad man, but sometimes I think he lets ambition get the better of him, and he's very committed to his students, and to what he thinks is the right thing for them."

I want to tell her that he won't treat her right. A year ago Rin was nearly catatonic when he pushed her into that exhibition. But have I done any better? Besides, clearly she doesn't want to hear from me. I've hurt her too much - she's right to leave. Surely she deserves better than having me around hurting her all the time.

It comes to me suddenly, that what she said at my parents house was exactly right. All this time, I've been treating her like a child. It's so easy, when I'm brushing her hair, or her teeth, or helping her dress, to forget that just because she has trouble doing these things for herself doesn't mean she's stupid, or broken or a child. But I've been treating her that way, maybe because she means so much to me, or maybe because it just seemed easier that way. I wonder now if I lost her inside first, if I let resentment build up quietly between us until it affected my behavior and drove her away. I wonder if, had I spotted it sooner, I could have decided to change the way I acted toward her. I wonder if I would even have wanted to. Maybe I thought I'd had enough of the life we'd made.

If so, I know now how wrong I was.

With the bitter clarity of hindsight, I see now that this is my fault, and that there's probably no fixing it. I've made too many mistakes. I treated her like she was a responsibility I had to shoulder, a dependent to care for instead of a beautiful, complex woman with a fascinating, quirky view of the world who just happened to need help with some basic daily tasks.

Like a fool, I hid her from my coworkers and even my family, as if I was ashamed of her. Was I? Maybe. Once I left Yamaku for the "real" world again, maybe I forgot what I'd learned there. I know now that I'm not ashamed of her.

I'm ashamed of myself, of how I acted, how I've been acting, and I've been ashamed for a while now, maybe even since that evening on the bus when I realized that Helen was interested in me, realized that there were "normal" people who would find me interesting. I didn't remember that what the world thinks is "normal" isn't important. Rin and I had something wonderful. She made every day interesting and new, she gave me everything she had and more, even if I couldn't always see it.

Even if I didn't actually betray Rin, what I did was a betrayal of myself, of what I should have known was really important to me, to us, of what Rin and I were becoming together. I know now, too late, that Rin was all that really mattered to me, all along. Somewhere I lost sight of that.

And now she's gone, and I don't know how to find her. I sit down on the steps of the atelier where we shared our first cigarette, where we shared some of her darkest hours together. I sit, and I stare, while the empty hole in my chest yawns open to swallow my defective heart. Eventually, I get up and trudge home. I don't bother with the bus - I want to feel the discomfort of a long walk. Maybe it'll take my mind off the unbearable ache in my chest that has nothing to do with my medical condition.

Halfway back, it starts to rain, harder and harder. By the time I get back to the cold, empty apartment I'm soaked and shivering. I don't bother to dry off, l just lie down on the bed and press my face into the sheets. They still smell a little like her - paint thinner and shampoo and the warm spicy scent of her underneath it all.

The prickling pain beneath my eyelids becomes tears as I weep for me, and for Rin, and for what we were, and what we might have been. I weep until my eyes are dry and raw and sleep takes me.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Wow, talk about an unfortunate editing mistake. Thanks to DedicatedWriterX for catching it. I've fixed the accidental reference to Rin's FINGERS. D'oh. Sorry about that - I was writing the epilogue to Stone and Grace at the same time I was writing this, and the two apparently got muddled. For the record, Rin did not sprout arms overnight. _

_...aaand it appears that I also dropped a nice little continuity error into there as well. Good eye, Cropsy.  
><em>

* * *

><p>**********************Tuesday, November 20th**********************<p>

The rain lasts all night, and into the next day. I call in sick for work. I tell Mr. Takahashi's assistant that I think it's the flu, and I don't expect I'll be back in this week. The Helen calls, shy and embarrassed, to tell me she's sorry. She asks me if I'm okay. I tell her I'm not, and I tell her why. She hangs up on me.

I don't blame her one bit.

* * *

><p>**********************Wednesday, November 21st**********************<p>

It rains the following day too. Rin doesn't call. I don't get out of bed.

* * *

><p>It's late at night. Because I'm asleep, I almost don't hear it over the noise of the rain, but eventually I wake to the sound of something thumping rhythmically, like an unbalanced washing machine. I come downstairs, trying to guess what it might be, and realize the sound is coming from the door. I open it, heart in my mouth. Rin is standing there, dripping, teeth chattering, eyes glazed. There's a long leather tube slung across her back, droplets of water staining the cap and running down the waxed sides. She doesn't seem to have realized that the door is open, and she almost overbalances as her swinging foot doesn't meet the expected resistance. As I look down, I see that the paint on the bottom of the door is scuffed and battered. Her toenails are broken and battered, and the slight tinge of pink in the water dripping out of her sandals and puddling on the floor gives me a sick feeling in my stomach. How long was she standing there kicking before I heard her? She recovers her balance and stands there, pale as a sheet, eyes fixed on my face, her hair straggling into her eyes.<p>

"Please Hisao," she says. "Please, I don't care anymore why I was angry. I know you've got someone else now, but I just can't... I need..." she trails off. I start to reach out, but she shudders and steps away. "Wait!" she says, "I need to... I need to find the words. The right words." I'm frozen, hovering, my hand stretched out towards her. She's going to apologize, I know. Apologize for being her, for being what I love. I can't let her do that.

"I'm..." she starts, and I place my hand over her mouth, gently.

"Please," I say. "Let me." She blinks, dazedly. I should get her inside, towel her off, and I will.

I will.

But she has to know she's stepping back into our home as an equal, as a partner in my heart and my life.

"It's my fault," I say. "Every bit of it."

She doesn't like that, starts to shake her head, but I keep going.

"I was wrong. I took you for granted. Some part of me thought that I knew what a normal life was, and I wanted us to live it. I forgot the most important thing I learned at Yamaku."

I take a deep breath to steady myself. "There is no such thing as a "right" or "normal" life. There's just _life_, and I never want to have to live my life without you again. I don't need you to be anything but what you are. I don't _want _you to be anything but who you are. I love you. I love everything about you. I wouldn't change anything about you even if I could."

I take a deep breath and ask. "Did you see what happened at the bank on Monday?"

She just nods, mute with misery.

The words break out of me in a flood. "I'm so sorry that happened. You have to know I wasn't cheating on you. I'm not seeing that girl, she just kissed me. I don't know why it happened - okay, I do, but it wasn't because I wanted her to. She was new and I was nice to her and then when I knew she... liked... me I didn't know what to do about it so I just ignored the problem and then... _that_... happened, and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but I didn't cheat on you, I never would. I feel so bad about what happened, and that things are so strained between us."

She stares at me as seconds seem to stretch out into hours, then, miraculously, she nods in understanding. The great weight of dread and guilt and misery I've been carrying around for days seems to lift as she stands, blinking rain droplets out of her eyes. Then, with sudden determination, she slips by me and makes her way up the stairs. As she climbs the steps, I can see the ruin she's made of her feet, and my heart clenches in my chest.

She's limping, but she's moving like a woman possessed, stumbling across the floor to the easel. She ducks suddenly and shakes her upper body until the leather tube falls from her shoulders to the floor. I stoop to help her, but she pushes me fiercely away with her head, almost splitting my lip as her forehead impacts my face. It didn't feel intentional - she's clearly exhausted and moving erratically. Regardless, it seems she's determined to do whatever this is, so against all my instincts, I take a step back to give her some room.

I have to watch as she struggles with her cracked and bleeding toes to open the tube, and I realize that this is another lesson I have to learn - to let her do things for herself. To let her be a complete person, not my missing piece or my responsiblity, but a whole, complete person who sometimes could use a hand washing in hard-to-reach places. A person who in return grants me the priceless opportunity to see the world through her eyes, to experience life by her side.

She has the tube open now, and she's inching the canvas out with bloody toes. Every fiber in me wants to take it away, to help her. Instead, I wait.

Maybe I've learned something after all.

She seizes it in her teeth, stands, and with a violent swipe of her foot sends the grim coffin-and-arms sketch fluttering from the easel and sliding across the floor facedown. With spastic effort, she manages to wedge the top edge of the rolled canvas from the tube under the clip at the top of the easel, and gravity does the rest. She steps away and stares at me, eyes sharp and focused on my face, green and intense and filled with hopeless pain.

And I see.

Rin has always put her soul into her paintings, but this time she's done more than that.

_Two trees stand side by side, branches tangled together above and roots below. The trees are wildly different, one tall and straight and dark, the other pale and misted and fanciful. But where the trees meet above and below the roots and branches blend together until one can't be told from the other. Between the trees is a seed, and inside the seed stand two figures, drawn so perfectly they seem like photographs. Rin is nestled up against me, her face turned up to mine, looking into my eyes as I look down into hers, my arms wrapped tightly around her. All around the edges of the painting, outside of the protective embrace of the trees are figures, some threatening, some welcoming, beautiful and terrible, angels and demons. The trees completely encircle us, extending branches out to welcome some of the figures outside, curling about to block others, both trees equal partners in protecting and nurturing the seed holding her and I._

I look for a long time, and when I look back to her there are tears in my eyes. She looks puzzled for a second, and apprehensive. I hold out my arms, and she steps in without a hint of hesitation. She presses herself into my chest, head resting on my shoulder, hair tickling my nose as I press my face into it, the damp smell of the rain failing to mask the cinnamon scent that is Rin. We stay like that as the minutes tick by, until finally we step apart almost by mutual consent.

I watch her for a moment, her hair drying slowly in ragged shapes, her wet clothes hanging on her thin form.

"Bath?" I ask. She smiles.

I let her draw the water this time, and when we sit she uses her feet to wash my chest and shoulders and even my face. When she's done, I take the soap in turn and wash her, face and hair and small, fine breasts. I take my time on her feet, cleaning each battered toe individually and then walking, dripping, to the closet to get down the first aid kit so I can put antiseptic on her feet and gently bandage them. When I finish, there's so much gauze and tape that she can barely walk without slipping. She looks down, wiggles her toes, and then smiles up at me. It feels good to see that smile.

I change the sheets on the bed while Rin goes down to the kitchen to get something to eat. It takes a while, but I just wait. I know she can do it herself, and I've got to let her. When she comes back, I take the old radio from its shelf in the studio and bring it over to the bed. I plug it in, and when I turn it on I hear an old American song from the 60's that I haven't heard in years.

We lie together on the bed, facing one another, foreheads gently touching, breathing each other's air as I rest my hands on either side of her sweet face, my fingers stroking her red curls. Her green eyes are tired and bruised and shadowed, but bright as emeralds. They seem to grow until they engulf my vision - they're all I can see, all I want to see.

I watch until her lids droop down, fraction by fraction, to hide them and together we fall into an exhausted sleep while Otis Redding croons into the quiet, still air of the apartment.

_These arms of mine, they are lonely,_  
><em>lonely, and feeling blue.<em>  
><em>These arms of mine, they are yearning,<em>  
><em>yearning from wanting you,<em>  
><em>and if you would let them hold you,<em>  
><em>oh how grateful I will be,<em>

_These arms of mine, they are burning,_  
><em>burning from wanting you.<em>  
><em>These arms of mine, they are wanting,<em>  
><em>wanting to hold you,<em>  
><em>and if you would let them hold you,<em>  
><em>oh how grateful I will be.<em>

_Come on, come on baby, just be my woman_  
><em>just be my love.<em>  
><em>I need me somebody, somebody,<em>  
><em>to treat me right.<em>  
><em>I need your arms, loving arms to hold me tight.<em>

_And I, I need your tender lips, too,_  
><em>to hold me.<em>  
><em>That's when I'm all right.<em>

* * *

><p>*********************Thursday, November 22nd*********************<p>

When I wake, the early morning sun is streaming in through the skylight above, shining down through the red-gold halo of Rin's hair like light through stained glass as she kisses me, softly. Her emerald eyes are open and locked on mine without a trace of darkness or clouds in their depths. She leans into the kiss, the smell of her sweat and shampoo filling my head.

Five minutes later, we're rocking slowly together, her toes laced through my fingers as she watches me, deep green eyes clear and full of warmth. She watches me as her slow insistent pace brings me closer and closer to the edge, and I have to bite my lip until I see the beginning traces of ecstatic agony on her face and I grit my teeth as her pace accelerates until we cry out together and I empty myself into her as she arches above me, both of us caught up in a single golden moment that is far more than a physical relief.

Afterwards, she slumps over and falls asleep sprawled gently across me, her hair tickling my face and her soft, even breathing teasing at my ear as we lie together, bathed in early morning sunlight.


End file.
